As part of NaBloPoMo, today I will address the cause that’s most important to my heart. It’s no secret that I was in an extremely abusive (mentally/emotionally) marriage for just over 19 years. Most everyone knows that the divorce was excruciating, not because the marriage was over, but because of the position it left my son and me in.
I hold a Bachelor’s degree in Business Management and a certificate in Paralegal Studies. For years, despite the pressure of that marriage, I ran a pretty successful home-based business. I was team mom for my son’s traveling/elite basketball team. I attended church on a semi-regular basis. I was at all my son’s games until I became physically ill and even managed to hang out with my girlfriends now and then. I was a functioning abuse victim. Until I moved to the Dallas area and suffered that brain hemorrhage, very few people knew of the horrific acts that occurred behind the closed doors of my life. I was too ashamed to tell anyone.
Up until then, I had been too embarrassed to tell even my best friend of some of the things that had been done and said to me. I will never forget the look of sheer terror in her eyes when I finally disclosed one of the incidents that occurred shortly before we went to Orlando for a basketball tournament in July 2009. It just happened that she as in Florida the same weekend we were there. Little did I know that three weeks after seeing her there, I would be in ICU with that hemorrhage.
As I’ve said before, I knew immediately what was happening to me when I felt that first thunder-clap pain of the hemorrhage. I knew that if I didn’t move immediately, I was going to die in the parking lot of Lowery Freshman Center in Allen, TX. I knew my son would come to that truck and find me dead. I wasn’t going to let that happen. I began to pray and I got myself to the ER. Ultimately, I promised God that if He saw me through, I would never allow that pressure to dictate me again and that I would use that thing to help other women.
Things didn’t turn around immediately, because ever after that medical scare, I was still determined to make my marriage work. It wasn’t meant to be. It took me years to understand it but I finally accepted that my marriage was not one for a lifetime. It was one that served as a lesson on many, many levels, during it’s season.
I am not here to be a martyr. I am here to serve as a shining example that there is life after divorce. There is life after the pain. If for no on else but yourself, you absolutely, positively, must pick up the pieces and get it together. I don’t know exactly where my experiences will lead but I do know that whenever and wherever I can, I will speak out against all forms of abuse – physical, mental and emotional because it is never, ever okay. Life is fragile but it is meant to be enjoyed and relished. I want to let other women know that there is indeed someone out there who understands – fully understands and knows every bit of what it means to start over. I want them to know that it’s not written anywhere that your first attempts to restart life have to be gigantic and even successful. What matters is getting up and getting started.